


Pas de Deux

by HeayPuckett



Series: The Dating Life of Sherlock Holmes [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: All couples have their problems, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Friendship, Molly likes yellow because of the crime scene tape, Molly understands, Romance, Romantic Interlude, Sherlock's and Molly's involve Interpol, Someone stop me, dating woes, in the midst of a crime scene, tag abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 16:40:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeayPuckett/pseuds/HeayPuckett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the belief that they can avoid further mayhem, Sherlock decides to take Molly on a more traditional type of date. He is completely convinced that a simple night at the ballet can't possibly turn into a case. Silly Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pas de Deux

**Author's Note:**

> Actual full-on snogging in this one, with descriptions and everything. Last one for the night. I am up far too late.

 

" 'What could possibly happen at the ballet?' he says," Molly Hooper grumped from her perch on a retaining wall outside of the opera house. The area in which they were sitting was surrounded in yellow tape. 

 

"In my defense," Sherlock Holmes responded as he paced the pavement in front of her, "I didn't know it was a traveling troupe from  _Moscow_. If I'd known that it was a  _Russian_  ballet company, I would have avoided it like the plague. I am perfectly aware of my record when it comes to interacting with Russians."

 

Molly sighed, "I'm sorry. I know it wasn't your fault. You couldn't possibly have known that two Chechen terrorists had infiltrated the troupe." Molly stretched her back out and yawned. "How did you figure that out, anyway. I didn't have time to ask before."

 

"Their tights." Sherlock supplied succinctly. 

 

"Of course," Molly said with a fond grin. She would get him to break down his full deduction later, preferably after she had had enough sleep to have a fighting chance at understanding. 

 

Really, she should have expected this. Even when Molly could only fantasize about dating Sherlock Holmes, she had known danger and intrigue would follow. Of course, her idea of danger and intrigue had been informed by telly and her dad's old Inspector Alleyn novels. Still, was it really too much to ask for  _one_  date in which they didn't end up running for their lives? Maybe she should plan the next one. 

 

"I really am sorry, Molly," Sherlock said softly, moving so that he was leaning against the retaining wall next to Molly.  He continued to look forward, "We both like the ballet, so I thought we could-" he humphed, "I thought  _I_  could be normal for once." 

 

Molly's heart broke a little. For all of his confidence and arrogant certainty in his own intellectual superiority, there would always be a part of Sherlock Holmes that believed something was wrong with him. True, he didn't fit into any neat little social box, but that was society's problem. And Molly Hooper hadn't fallen in love with a normal bloke. 

 

Molly hopped off the wall and moved to stand in front of Sherlock, gently placing her hands on either side of his face. He unconsciously leaned into her touch. Molly waited for Sherlock to look at her before she spoke. "Sherlock Holmes don't ever try to be anything other than what you are. Normal is boring. Normal is ordinary. You have never been nor will you ever be boring or ordinary. I don't love an ordinary person. I love the extraordinary, brilliant, frustrating, not-a-normal-bloke, Sherlock Holmes, and I won't settle for anything less. You've thoroughly spoiled me for  _normal_."

 

It was hardly the first time Molly had confessed her love for Sherlock, but it felt more important than any of the other times combined. Somehow she had missed making Sherlock understand that her love was deep and unconditional. She cursed herself for not seeing how much Sherlock would need to hear the words. He might not be able to say it back, but he needed to hear it just the same. 

 

Molly held Sherlock's gaze a bit longer. She knew she couldn't keep her emotions out of her eyes. Sherlock had pointed that out early in their acquaintance. It was part of the reason she had difficulty making eye contact with him early on and instead initiated conversations when he was preoccupied with something else: so he wouldn't look at her and see her adoration glowing in her eyes. The few times she had looked him straight in the eye were usually when he had been a complete berk, so all he could see was her pain. Now, though, she wanted him to see the sincerity and love she knew shone brightly in her eyes at that moment.

 

 Several emotions passed quickly over Sherlock's strong features. There was the hint of panic that always came when he was faced with someone's deep affection for him. Molly wondered if Sherlock's first reaction to being offered love would always be fear. It passed quickly -more quickly than usual, she fancied- and his face settled into that soft expression he only ever used with her. There was almost a smile on his face as he cupped his hands over hers. 

 

If they were any other couple, Sherlock would respond with an equally sentimental speech, but he didn't and Molly would never expect such a thing. She was one of a small number of people privileged enough to have learned to speak Sherlockese. She knew that the simple act of touching was a testament to how much she meant to him. That letting the calculating mask slip enough for her to see the affection in his expression spoke more of his love than words ever would. Even if he could never quite lable what he felt, Molly could see it. 

 

Sherlock leaned forward and pressed his lips to Molly's cheek and slowly moved to press a kiss  to her neck. He liked feeling her pulse on his lips and lingered there before slowly pressing kisses back up and along her jaw. Finally, he kissed her. 

 

Among the many things she had learned about Sherlock over the years was that he could be incredibly gentle when he wanted to be. He began brushing his fingertips along Molly's arms and face, then began slow gentle strokes through her hair. He really did like it when she left her hair down for him. "Like silk," he had murmured once. Sherlock's best, most honest compliments happened when he was distracted by the feel of her. For someone who didn't generally seek out physcial contact, he was very tactile. Molly felt tears well up in her eyes at the tenderness of his caresses, so incongruous with the Sherlock Holmes presented for public consumption. 

 

Not that he became a completely different person when he kissed her. On the contrary, Sherlock's ability to catalog physical reactions and correlate them to emotional responses was phenomenal. Molly was a very lucky girl and she knew it.

 

Molly moved one hand to Sherlock's curls ant the other to his neck, feeling him swallow convulsively as she ran a thumb along his throat. One of Sherlock's hands slid down her back and he pulled Molly to stand between his legs, tilting his head as he did to deepen the kiss. Molly was glad he had wrapped an arm around her waist, otherwise she might have melted into the pavement. She couldn't have cared less at that moment about anything but touching -and being touched by- Sherlock Holmes.

 

Of course that's when they heard a loud cough behind them. 

 

"Go away, Lestrade," Sherlock growled against Molly's mouth and, oh, that felt lovely. 

 

"I need your statements." There was clear amusement in Lestrade voice. 

 

"Tomorrow," Molly said. Or she may have just moaned, she didn't really know. Or care. 

 

"You two do know everyone -and I mean  _everyone_ \- can see you, right?"

 

"Don't care," Sherlock growled again.

 

"Yeah, well Molly might."

 

She didn't really, but there was the paparazzi thing they had to deal with now (they even had a couple nickname), so she reckoned they should cut it out for the moment before they became the subject of another lurid headline. She gently pulled away and rested her forehead against Sherlock's shoulder so she wouldn't have to see the disappointment on his face.

 

"Do you want me to take you home?" It was clear by the way he asked that Sherlock didn't want that, but was still uncertain about the fall out from the events of the evening.

 

"No," Molly responded simply, but was too languid from his kisses to elaborate.  

 

"Do you... want to come back to Baker Street with me...?" Molly smiled into Sherlock's shoulder at his hesitancy.

 

"Yes," she responded definitively. 

 

In short order, they were in a cab headed for Baker Street. Upon arrival, they received another lecture on too much public displays of affection from the cab driver. Sherlock threw a ridiculous amount of money, muttering about bad cabbies, then ushered Molly upstairs where they continued their displays of affection in private. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, have to share a funny. My autocorrect changed my misspelled Sherlock (I spelled it Sheerlock) to Sheetrock. Someone make something out of that, please.


End file.
